Iris's Guardian (White Tigers of Brigantia Book 2)

by Lisa Daniels

  “They’re not known for their manners,” Aizen said, and Faye wrinkled her nose at the coarse little people. Aizen seemed too exhausted to keep carrying her, for he slouched as he walked, and Faye kept shivering as she followed behind him, hoping she wouldn’t step on some little mushroom house and end up with thousands of tiny toothpick-wielding creatures trying to stab at her ankles. Aizen’s bare feet accumulated mud as he trudged along, and they kept their weary, lethargic pace through the woods. Sometimes, Faye tried to prompt him to talk, but he merely grunted at her to keep going, to not distract him from the task, and to walk fast to warm up. Privately, Faye thought it better to take off their wet clothes, as the wet iced up against their skins faster, and her teeth chattered more violently the further they walked.

  When they stumbled across a full-sized man crouched down, carefully examining some herbs growing in the roots of a tree, he turned around, startled, as he saw Aizen and Faye.

  “Goodness!” the man declared, instantly dropping the basket he’d been holding. “If it isn’t Your Highness, Aizen! Oh! Your father’s looking for you right now. Are you alright? Are…” His voice trailed off as he saw Faye stumbling behind Aizen. He then took in their wretched appearances, the twigs in Faye’s hair, the pale sheen to Aizen’s face. When Aizen dropped then in a dead faint, the man pursed his lips.

  “Not okay, then. Right, I… are you going to faint on me too, girl?”

  Girl? I’m twenty-one! Immediately, she realized that was wrong. Or some time into my second century. “N-no.”

  “Good. You in a condition to ride or you need to be grabbed?”

  “I…”

  “Grabbed, okay. Alright, take this basket, please. Don’t drop it. I’m going to transform now.” The man took a few steps backwards, and abruptly shifted into a green-scaled dragon standing on his hind legs. Faye blinked stupidly as the dragon unfurled his wings in the clearing. “Are you holding the basket tight?”

  “Um… yes?”

  Two clawed hands reached for Aizen and Faye, and once they were cradled in his talons, the dragon took a few great beats of his wings before lifting off. Faye clutched onto the basket tightly, balled up in his fist, completely bemused at the dragon’s casual attitude.

  Was Aizen telling the truth? Were dragons more civilized nowadays? She shivered in his grasp as he sped off towards Vrytal, once her home. Once the only life she’d ever known.

  She wasn’t sure if she wanted to see the changes and have to come face to face with the bones of her parents. That is, if the dragons even kept mausoleums.

  The only thing she could hope for now was either to find living relatives, rescue Anthony – or somehow return to her own time. But everyone knew how the laws of time worked. Once you were stuck in a time, you never returned.

  Not that people hadn’t tried meddling with time, of course. People invariably came back to the idea. Not once had Faye seen anyone succeed.

  Chapter Three

  Bundled into Vrytal, Aizen and Faye were immediately seen to by the healers, who helped leach the cold out of their bodies. They were given new clothes and Faye got assigned to Aizen’s quarters in the castle.

  It depressed her to see that Aizen’s quarters were a combination of her old rooms and her brothers’, and that although the castle itself appeared mostly unchanged in external structure, most of the original paintings were missing, now replaced with noble depictions of dragons fighting Questers, and the color red was prevalent everywhere.

  The memories seemed to ghost out of the walls, and she kept seeing how things used to be. Human subjects walking through the corridors, maids and servants bustling around, some of the royals sitting on benches, deep in discussion.

  Her past had vanished. And now of course she was a captive princess, her movements limited even within the castle that was once her home, and it took her a good couple of days to even begin to adjust to the fact. To remind herself that home only existed now in her memories. With Aizen confined to his quarters, still unconscious from when he fainted in the forest, the dragons didn’t know quite what to make of her. They assumed that because she smelled like Aizen, that meant she had been officially taken as his princess, and so they allowed her to stay within his quarters. Aizen had guards posted around the clock, and sometimes, when Faye went into Aizen’s room where he slumbered, a pale sheen on his face, she just sat by his bed. Thinking. Wondering what her future held.

  Without listening to Aizen talk, it gave her more time to scrutinize his features. Peaceful and relaxed, he appeared almost angelic to her. Without his wild hair frizzing over his face, she saw the strong cheekbones, the rounded nose, the two moles that had clustered just above his collarbone.

  She wondered if any of the shifters here had royal blood in them – if they ever mixed with the humans of before. She always knew dragons could, of course – not that people went around jabbering about it – but she also wondered if any of the dragons around were old enough to remember the human royal bloodline, or if all memories had been purged.

  Not that any of them wanted to be rude and talk to another dragon’s princess before he was at least conscious. Their odd propriety baffled her.

  Dragons were supposed to be savage beasts. Not bowing and scraping and acting like blasted humans.

  She sat now with her hands clasped between her knees, waiting for Aizen to awaken. To hold to his promise, to regain his dragon, and to let her rescue the frozen in Alicifer’s cave. She also wanted to sneak into the royal treasury, in case the Ice Bow still lay in the vaults, untouched.

  Somehow or another, her future was tied to this sleeping dragon’s. At least for now. They got each other out of the ice witch’s lair. She’d be cursed if she didn’t show Aizen at least some form of appreciation.

  He woke on the third day. She happened to be fumbling around in his chambers at the time, dressed in a plain brown habit, which kept her warm during the coldest hours of the day. She felt the burn of his eyes on her back, even as she dusted along the window ledge, doing her princess duties under a dragon’s captivity as best as possible. She turned in time to face those stark yellow eyes and hear him say, “Who would have thought you so eager to act like my princess?”

  Her former good mood rapidly evaporated, before he let out a groan. “How long have I been out for?”

  “Three days.” She aggressively dusted off a smudge. “Be thankful it’s not three centuries.”

  “Suppose I should be.” He grinned, and the smile tickled her heart for a moment. How annoying. “Still.” He sat up, giving Faye a proud smile. “You clean up nicely. I should be glad to have you as my princess.”

  “Just as long as you stick to the deal, I’ll be the best princess you’ve ever had,” Faye promised, waggling her feather duster at him. He observed the motion in amusement.

  “Oh, don’t you worry, princess. I’ll hold my side. After all, a dragon who can’t shift into a dragon isn’t much of a dragon at all, is he?”

  When he finally teased himself out of bed, he flattered her outrageously. He’d kiss the top of her hand and declare her as the loveliest woman alive, solely to see the blush form on her face. He’d also insist on escorting her around and holding her by the elbow, and rather than aggravate an entire kingdom of dragons, Faye went along and smiled. Sometimes, though, she suspected that Aizen used her as a leaning pole because he was still weak from the efforts of before, and from the loss of his dragon. She saw how it ate at him, when he’d watch dragons longingly from the window as they flew past.

  Easy to feel sorry for him, harder to let go of the past her soul remained attached to. Walking through the halls tucked arm in arm, seeing everything changed, the interior renovated, the old servants’ quarters demolished and converted into a common room, her past seemed to shoot further away from her. Aizen saw the sadness in her eyes and tried to offer her more freedoms, more opportunities to walk around. He introduced her to the current king and queen of Vrytal and let her ask questions about her blo
odline, but none of the dragons alive today knew anything about it. Instead, they told her that something in Vrytal went terribly wrong with a dragon summoning horn, and it was the folly of man that caused the dragons to be dominant today.

  Not exactly satisfactory, but Faye knew she wouldn’t get another answer.

  Now, Aizen tried providing her with his latest entertainment – drink.

  “It’s a good, old taste, the ramsin. Can be a bit strong for a first timer, but you look like the kind of lady who can tolerate a drink or two.” He poured her a frothing red liquid from a rounded bottle. He sat opposite her in the bedchambers by the guest table, his feet rather sloppily sprawled upon the table surface. She wrinkled her nose in mild distaste at his manners, but otherwise dropped it, accepting the drink as graciously as possible. Today he was dressed in a nobleman’s short-sleeved blouse, with a green, red and black kilt. He did at least take off his boots, leaving white socks which stretched to his knees and covered his feet.

  The kilt fascinated her, simply because she’d never seen a man wear a skirt before. On the other hand, she wore a simple maid’s smock, nothing like the grand clothes she’d once donned at the castle, back in those distant days before time got snatched from her.

  She tried the ramsin and coughed at the strong flavor slithering down her throat. “Oh, wow. That’s certainly something.”

  “That it is. Don’t tell my brother I have it, though, or he’ll murder me to get a sip. Costs a lot of gold to get some.”

  She gazed into his bright yellow eyes for a moment, licking her lips, feeling another surge of electricity ripple through her skin, before she said, “When are you going to go back to the cave?”

  At this, Aizen’s face fell. “I admit… I’m waiting to get better. But I don’t seem to be moving past how I feel right now. Like I’m permanently drained.”

  “That’s because you are,” Faye pointed out. “You’re missing something. Can’t you just boost yourself with equipment?”

  Aizen swirled his cup, staring at the dark red liquid within. “The gear isn’t the problem. The problem is if I try to retrieve my dragon, I don’t really have an idea of how to go about it, and neither do any of the witches I’ve talked to. Hattie’s a strong and old witch, but she admits she’s never heard of an ice witch before. I used a shell to contact High Mountain – there’s a trio of Quest Givers there who know a thing or two about rare enchantments. The witch there, Morgana, says she can’t help. I even contacted one of the richest dragons I know, a nice chap called Gerran. He’s got no antidotes for something like that, and just wished me luck. It’s almost as impossible as time travel. No offense,” he added, seeing her face drop. “I know you’re miserable yourself, being stuck in your kingdom which has been overtaken by dragons, everyone you’ve ever known and loved long dead. Why should I complain about my dragon soul, huh?”

  He complained because it was a big part of him. Insensitive remark about her lost history aside, she appreciated the dilemma. Also, she did feel a rather strong wave of warmth saturate her blood, likely the effects of the alcohol, sending her heartrate buzzing faster. Her cheeks took on a pinkish blush. She didn’t know whether to sob, laugh hysterically, or lurch over to Aizen and drown his lips with hers. What a strange impulse. Kissing a dragon?

  Well… he did look and sound and smell like a human. He did have those gorgeous muscles, and he did go out of his way to look after her, even when he had no obligation to. He could have just ditched her after getting out of the cave. Instead, he helped save her from the chimera, bound her to him and took her to his home. All for the sake of keeping her safe. Her displacement easier to manage. A question came to mind. “Why not… just get a bunch of people and go fight the witch?”

  “What, and risk everyone losing their dragon souls, too? I don’t think you’ll find anyone mad enough to do that.” Aizen scowled moodily into his drink. A vein twitched in his neck, displaying his stress.

  “Why not let me help?” The idea enflamed Faye at that moment, and a breath of hope exhaled from her lips. “You know, I can actually fight.”

  An incredulous stare came over his features. “Sorry? You can fight?” He paused. “That’s not the impression I’ve gotten.” He put down his drink, and dragged his chair closer to her. “You’ve told me that you used to live in this castle, that you had two brothers and a man you were supposed to marry who had moved in, you told me about the kittens you kept in your closet when you were a kid because your mother was allergic to them, and would have had them killed if she knew. You told me you went to the ice witch’s lair on a dare, and that you want to return home, because you don’t feel like you belong here. And now you claim you can fight?”

  The flush in Faye’s cheeks grew brighter. Aizen had edged himself close now, leaving his knee within bumping distance. Faye wondered what would happen if she shifted her knee now. Would he flinch away or keep it still? And, did he find her attractive or not?

  “Well, you didn’t think I would go to the lair alone unless I knew how to fight, right?”

  “I don’t know. People do things for all kinds of reasons.” No doubt about it now, he allowed his gaze to flick over her. She felt odd at the feeling, like a wave of sand from an hourglass was pouring on her, bristling her skin. How… odd. Now her cheeks started burning, but she held onto her composure, trying not to look at the hint of muscle displayed in the dip of his shirt.

  “Surely I told you that I’m good with a bow and arrow?”

  “I don’t recall. And I’ve yet to see if it’s true or not.”

  “Well, there’s one bow I’m particularly good with… but it was a family artifact.”

  At this, Aizen’s interested perked. “Oh? Family artifact, you say?”

  “Yes. I’m able to wield the Ice Bow that was in our possession. When I was back in my time.”

  “Wait…” Aizen squinted at her. “Are you serious?”

  “Deadly. It was my weapon.”

  “Drat,” Aizen said softly. “We had an Ice Bow in our collection. I think my father’s been meaning to sell it off because although it’s valuable, no one can use it.”

  “I can.”

  Aizen shook his head, suddenly excited. “If… if you can use it, then maybe you can come with me. You won’t be dead weight. That thing packs serious power.” Then he sighed. “Oh, I don’t know if we even have it anymore.”

  The excitement that had taken over the former glint of lust she saw in his eyes faded again. “I wish we knew exactly how to break the curse. Even if we manage to kill the witch, there’s no guarantee we’ll break the curse on everyone.”

  “Better than sitting around and never even attempting it,” Faye growled. “You know what my motivation is. If I can’t get back to my time – I’ll try and save people from my time. And, well, it gets tiring watching you mope about the place because you don’t have your dragon soul.”

  Aizen chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I am moping slightly.”

  “Slightly? Hah. I’ll help you. Either with bow and arrow, or the Ice Bow.”

  The shifter nodded at her, determined. “The treasury is big. I’ll make some excuse to my father like I want to pick you out a necklace or something, and you can come with me. I can’t mention the bow or he’ll get suspicious and angry. And… we might need to sneak it out.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hand, cradling it for a moment. “Will you help me, Princess Faye, to retrieve my dragon soul?”

  Faye tried not to act smug or delighted as he held her hand. “Prince Aizen, I will be glad to help you.”

  “Let’s hope you’re telling the truth,” he said, before bending to kiss the top of her hand. Faye’s heart fluttered. The smile grew wider.

  Chapter Four

  Aizen’s father accepted the flimsy excuse of wanting to decorate Faye with something “fitting for her unearthly beauty,” and he even opened the treasury himself, beaming at his son and the princess.

  “Oh, don’t take too long �
� the pearls are over there,” King Razen said, jabbing his fingers at a glimmering pool of white beads and silver.

  Faye let out a fake squeal of delight and batted her eyelashes. “Oh, darling, isn’t all this beautiful? You flatter me by taking me here!” She went over to the pearls and started picking them up to examine. “How magnificent. You have a fine collection here, Your Majesty.”

  “Now, now, darling,” Aizen said, putting emphasis on the ‘darling’ which spiked irritation and amusement in Faye at the same time, “don’t get your little heart too excited. I want to make sure you have something that perfectly frames your complexion.” He approached behind her, picked up one set of beads, and carefully looped it around her neck, brushing the hair away. His father grinned like a madman, clearly seeing what he thought was romantic attraction, and he closed the door excitedly, exclaiming, “Try not to make too much of a mess!”

  Aizen continued kneeling behind Faye for a moment, his hand whispering along her neck, making her shiver.

  “I feel bad now. Your dad seemed really happy that we were getting along.”

  “Oh, he is. Although most princesses get rescued, when she and a dragon fall in love, it’s considered to be a blessing for our kind. The more royal bloodlines they can be connected to, the more important they feel.” Aizen’s mouth dipped close enough to hiss in her ear, and the unexpected warmth sent violent shudders of pleasure through her skin. His hands touched along the pearls. “I think these ones actually suit you, princess.”

  Faye touched her fingers to it. “Why, I believe you’re right… darling.”

  He released her from his touch, and the air temperature dropped. Faye moved from her position, noting that her panties felt damp, and she frowned. Oh dear. She certainly didn’t feel anything like this for Anthony, who for her appeared rather foppish compared to Aizen, prowling and strong, an animal taint to his yellow eyes. The people of her time would have labelled him as “ruggedly handsome.” Maybe the people of this time would, too.